Chapter 2: The Brother's Secret
I didn't sleep that night.
At 2:17 a.m., I was still sitting on my sofa, staring at Alistair's messages.
Please don't go.
You don't know what Roland and Camille are planning to announce.
I typed three different replies.
Deleted all three.
Finally, I wrote:
Then tell me.
The message showed as delivered.
No response.
At 7:36 the next morning, Beatrix called.
"Did you contact anyone?""
"Alistair contacted me.""
Silence.
"What did he say?""
I read her the messages.
"Interesting," she said.
"Interesting? Beatrix, he's the biological father of Camille's baby.""
"According to the DNA report, yes.""
"And he's warning me not to attend the shower.""
"Which suggests he knows something about the announcement.""
I stood and walked to the window.
"Do you think Roland knows?""
"I think we should stop guessing and start collecting evidence.""
An hour later, I was sitting across from Beatrix in her office.
Her desk was covered with documents.
She wore her usual navy suit and had her reading glasses pushed onto her head.
"Before we discuss the baby," she said, "I want you to understand what we found in the financial records.""
She slid a printed spreadsheet toward me.
The company was called Sterling Advisory Group.
It had been established eighteen months before my divorce.
At first glance, it appeared to be a consulting firm.
But there was no meaningful business activity.
No employees.
No office.
Just money going in and money coming out.
"These transfers originated from Mercer Holdings," Beatrix explained.
"Some were authorized through accounts connected to Roland. Others came from a subsidiary where you were still listed as an adviser.""
I scanned the figures.
$125,000.
$280,000.
$410,000.
Then another transfer.
$650,000.
My stomach tightened.
"That's over two million.""
"Correct.""
"Why was I never informed?""
"Because the supporting documents listed the payments as approved strategic investments.""
"Who signed them?""
Beatrix turned another page.
"Roland.""
I leaned back.
"So he stole from his own company?""
"That's one possibility. But there's something more concerning.""
She placed a second document beside the first.
A photograph of a bank transfer authorization.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I stopped breathing.
"That's not mine.""
"I know.""
The signature looked almost perfect.
The same slant.
The same capital E.
Even the little flourish at the end.
But I hadn't signed it.
"Where did you get this?""
"It was included in the financial audit.""
"Can they prove it's forged?""
"We've requested the original documents and electronic authorization logs.""
I pushed the paper away.
"Why would he use my signature?""
"Because your name was still attached to certain company approvals. If the transactions were challenged, he could claim you authorized them.""
I stared at her.
"He was preparing to blame me?""
"Possibly.""
A strange calm settled over me.
For years, I'd thought the worst thing Roland had done was betray our marriage.
Now I was beginning to understand that the affair might have been the smallest part of it.
Beatrix closed the folder.
"There's another reason I asked you to come.""
She opened a drawer and removed a printed email.
"Your former husband's legal team contacted our office yesterday.""
"What do they want?""
"They want you to sign an additional document.""
She passed it to me.
It was a supplemental settlement agreement.
A new confidentiality clause.
A broad waiver of claims.
And a paragraph stating that I had no knowledge of any irregular financial transactions during my time at Mercer Holdings.
I looked up.
"They want me to sign this?""
"Yes.""
"When?""
"Before Saturday.""
I gave a short, humorless laugh.
"How thoughtful.""
Beatrix folded her hands.
"They're nervous.""
"About the baby?""
"About you.""
I looked down at the document.
"Then they should have treated me better.""
Beatrix nodded.
"That's why we're not signing anything.""
At 11:20, I left her office and walked toward my car.
My phone rang.
Alistair.
I answered.
"Where are you?"" he asked.
"Outside my lawyer's office.""
"Can we meet?""
"Why?""
"Because I need to tell you something before Saturday.""
I stopped beside my car.
"You've had six years, Alistair.""
"I know.""
"Six years while your brother told me I was defective.""
His breathing changed.
"I know.""
"Six years while Camille held my hand and pretended to be my friend.""
"I know, Evelyn.""
"Then why should I listen to you?""
"Because I didn't know everything.""
I laughed bitterly.
"You didn't know you were sleeping with your brother's wife?""
"I knew about Camille. I didn't know what Roland was doing to you.""
I closed my eyes.
"Where?""
"Bellamy Hotel. The restaurant downstairs. One o'clock.""
"I'll be there.""
I arrived ten minutes early.
Alistair was already sitting in a corner booth.
He looked older than I remembered.
His dark hair was uncombed, and his usual expensive suit had been replaced by a gray sweater and an open collar.
A glass of water sat untouched in front of him.
He stood when he saw me.
"Evelyn.""
"Don't.""
He sat down.
I placed my handbag beside me.
"Start talking.""
Alistair rubbed his forehead.
"First, I want to say I'm sorry.""
"That's a terrible place to start.""
"I know.""
"Do you?""
He looked at me.
"I loved you as a sister.""
"Then you should have behaved like one.""
He lowered his eyes.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, "Camille told me she was pregnant six months ago.""
I stared at him.
"Six months?""
"Yes.""
"And you knew the baby was yours?""
He nodded.
"She told me the dates. I confronted her. She admitted we'd been together.""
"How long?""
"Almost two years.""
I felt my fingers curl against the table.
Two years.
While Camille had attended my fertility appointments.
While she'd brought me flowers after failed treatments.
While she'd sat in my bedroom and told me that Roland didn't deserve me.
"Did you know Roland couldn't have children?"" I asked.
Alistair looked up sharply.
"How did you find out?""
"Medical records.""
He swallowed.
"I knew.""
The words landed harder than I expected.
"You knew?""
"Yes.""
"Before or after you started sleeping with Camille?""
"Before.""
I stared at him.
He reached into his coat and removed a small photograph.
It showed Roland and Camille standing outside a restaurant.
They were holding hands.
On the back was a date.
Two years earlier.
"What's this?"" I asked.
"Roland knew about the affair.""
I looked at him.
"What?""
"Not at first. But eventually, he found out.""
"And he did nothing?""
Alistair shook his head.
"He encouraged it.""
I felt a chill move through me.
"Why?""
"Because he wanted a child.""
I stared at him.
"Explain.""
"Roland wanted an heir. His father had made it clear that the next generation of the Mercer family would eventually inherit control of the company. Roland knew he couldn't father a child naturally.""
"Then why didn't he tell me?""
"Because he wanted to keep you.""
I frowned.
"What?""
Alistair leaned forward.
"Your grandfather left you a substantial trust. After your marriage, Roland gained access to certain business relationships connected to it. He wanted the family image.
He wanted the trust connections. And he wanted a wife who would protect his reputation.""
My mouth went dry.
"And Camille?""
"She wanted the Mercer name. She wanted the estate. She wanted the money.""
"Did she know Roland couldn't have children?""
"Yes.""
I looked away.
For a moment, the restaurant noise faded.
I remembered Camille bringing me soup after my second failed fertility treatment.
I remembered her sitting on the bathroom floor, holding my hand.
I remembered her saying, You're going to be a mother someday, Evie.
She hadn't been comforting me.
She'd been waiting for her turn.
"Why did Roland let you get her pregnant?"" I asked.
Alistair stared at the table.
"Because he planned to claim the baby as his.""
I felt my heart begin to pound.
"How?""
"He has an agreement with Camille.""
"What kind of agreement?""
Alistair pulled another document from his coat.
It was a photocopy of a signed legal agreement.
The language was dense, but one paragraph stood out.
A provision granting Roland parental rights over Camille's unborn child in exchange for financial support and an interest in certain family assets.
I looked up.
"Can he do that?""
"Not without the proper legal process. But he's been telling everyone the baby is his.""
"Why?""
"Because the Mercer family will never accept an heir born outside the marriage.""
I almost laughed.
"So he plans to steal your child and pretend it's his?""
Alistair's face tightened.
"He says it's better for the family.""
"And you agreed?""
"I signed the first draft.""
I stood up.
Alistair reached for my hand.
"Please, Evelyn.""
I pulled away.
"You signed away your own child?""
"I was frightened.""
"So was I. For six years. And nobody cared.""
He looked as if I'd slapped him.
I picked up my handbag.
"Why are you telling me now?""
"Because Roland wants to make an announcement at the baby shower.""
"What announcement?""
Alistair hesitated.
Then he looked directly into my eyes.
"He's going to tell everyone that Camille is carrying his son.""
I shook my head.
"And you're going to let him?""
"No.""
He reached into his coat again.
This time, he placed a small USB drive on the table.
"I have recordings.""
I looked at it.
"Of what?""
"Roland discussing the arrangement. Camille discussing the money. And something else.""
"What?""
Alistair's voice dropped.
"Something about your divorce.""
I didn't touch the drive.
"What about my divorce?""
He leaned closer.
"Roland didn't just want you out of his marriage, Evelyn.""
He swallowed.
"He needed you out of the company before the baby arrived.""
My blood ran cold.
"Why?""
"Because your name is still attached to something worth nearly forty million dollars.""
Before I could ask another question, his phone rang.
The screen showed one name.
*Roland.*
Alistair looked at it.
Then at me.
He answered.
"Hello?""
I heard Roland's voice through the phone.
"Where are you?""
"Having lunch.""
"With whom?""
Alistair didn't answer.
Then Roland said something that made my stomach turn.
"Listen carefully. If Evelyn knows about the baby, we have a problem.""
Alistair went completely still.
I looked at him.
May you like
And for the first time, I understood that Roland wasn't simply trying to protect a secret.
He was afraid of what would happen when the truth came out.
